It’s not a question. She’s always been good at reading between the lines, even when she’s holding back her own reactions.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “There’s no guarantee Austin will get more than five years if we go to trial, and Gregory and Parker? They’ll walk. I’m just … I’m not sure I have the energy to go through a long trial, and honestly, I’m scared of the outcome of one.”
Her silence lingers again, but I know she’s turning it over in her mind, weighing my words.
“You’ve clearly thought about this,” she says after a beat, her tone careful. “Which means you’ve already gone through all of your options. What’s holding you back?”
I bite my lip, my chest tightening. “I guess … I just need someone to tell me I’m not crazy for considering it.”
“You’re not crazy,” she says. “You’re doing what you need to do to protect yourself. That’s not crazy.”
Relief washes over me, but it’s tinged with guilt. “Gabe doesn’t know yet,” I confess, my voice quieter.
Adriana doesn’t react, at least not outwardly. But I know she’s filing the information away like she always does, her mind working through the implications. “That’s a mistake,” she says. “You need to tell him. Sooner rather than later. Accepting a plea deal is no small thing.”
“I know,” I murmur, feeling the weight of it settle back on my shoulders. “I will. Just … not today.”
“Not today,” she echoes, her voice level, but there’s a firm undertone. “But soon. Promise me.”
“Yeah. Soon.”
Adriana has always been like this—never one to push too hard, never making things more complicated than they need to be. It’s a kind of stability I’ve come to rely on, even when her own emotions stay beneath the surface.
“You wanna grab coffee this week?” she asks after a beat, the shift in tone subtle but noticeable.
I manage a small smile. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
“Cool. Text me when you’re free.”
After we hang up, I grab my laptop and start chipping away at schoolwork, but my mind is elsewhere. The conversation with Adriana lingers in my head, as does the conversation I know I need to have with Gabriel.
Seriously, when is all of the drama in my life going to end?
My phone chirps and a text from Gabriel illuminates my screen, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Gabriel: I’m picking you up in 30. Dress comfortably.
A thrill of excitement shoots through me—followed by a twinge of guilt. It’s only been a couple of hours since I saw him this morning, but I already miss him. Still, the conversation I’m avoiding weighs heavy in the back of my mind. Whatever he’s planning, might as well enjoy it before dropping the bomb that’s bound to ruin everything.
Closing my laptop, I scramble to my feet and rush to the bathroom.
After the world’s fastest shower in the history of showers, I towel off my hair, finger-combing it into a messy braid. I throw on ripped jeans and an oversized t-shirt, slipping into my checkered Vans before pausing at my dresser. My fingers hover over my stack of bracelets, the ones I usually wear to cover my scars. But today ... I don’t feel the need to hide them.
The doorbell rings, and I rush downstairs, tugging the door open to find Gabriel standing there, looking effortlessly sexy in low-slung jeans and a fitted white t-shirt. My eyes can’t help butsweep over his broad shoulders, the way the fabric pulls tight across his chest.
No sexy thoughts, Cecilia. We’re taking things slow, not daydreaming about how to jump his bones.
“Hey,” I say, grinning despite my nerves.
His smile is just as big. “You ready?”
Before I can answer, the sound of a car door slamming pulls our attention. I turn just in time to see my attorney, Mr. Ayala, stepping out of his sedan, his expression grim. My stomach tightens. This can’t be good.
Gabriel’s brow furrows. “Were you expecting him today?”
“No.” My voice comes out more uncertain than I’d like.
I step aside, and Gabriel follows me into the house, his expression leery at the unexpected guest. The air feels suddenly too thick, the easy mood Gabriel and I had just moments ago shattered.
